Distance
by thecautionarytale
Summary: Dean and Jo weren't supposed to meet. Jo wasn't supposed to hunt, and Dean wasn't supposed to empathize. One thing they sure weren't supposed to do was fall in love. Chestervelle. Jo's POV
1. Young Blood: Part 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters**

Chapter 1

Young Blood: Part 1

My childhood was a dull, dark, bottomless pit of nothing. The early days were great, at least what I could remember from them. I could remember sitting on the floor of the Roadhouse, writing in a diary my mom had given me and glancing up every once in a while at my parents. Those were the good days. When mom wasn't so uptight, and dad was there. They would sit and talk for hours at the Roadhouse, which I didn't think was possible. I always wondered if they'd run out of things to say. But they were always there, mom sipping from the long neck of a beer and dad sipping from a glass full of iced brown liquid. He always told me it was sweet tea. Not that what my dad drank constituted what kind of person he was. I couldn't remember much about dad after he died. Memories just started slipping away after he died. I suppose that's what always happens. Grief comes and then follows the long years of trying to tell yourself to forget. As the memories slipped away, I tried to hold onto this one, of mom and dad staring lovingly into each others eyes and laughing. I would write it, I would draw it, and sometimes I would act it out, just to remind myself that it was real. That dad had been there once. Though you couldn't tell now. Mom had given all dad's things (aside from that neat package dad had left for me to open on my eleventh birthday), neatly packed in a box, to a man I knew as Uncle John.

Uncle John was a lot like my dad in so many ways. He had that 'daddy' scent of gunpowder and leather (but I later realized it wasn't the way dad's smelled. It was the way hunters smelled). Uncle John would stroll into the Roadhouse on random occasions, wearing his leather jacket, the collar popped up around his neck. He was a rugged man, his face always dotted with stubble and his hands tan and calloused. He would stroll into the Roadhouse and I would be there, on the floor, writing in my diary. Uncle John would smile sadly at me before bending down to pick me up and twirl me in his big arms. Uncle John was like a father to me.

Mom would always come out from the back room. The first night Uncle John was there was always the same. Mom would shout, telling him to get out, and by the next day, they would be talking like old friends with the occasional awkward silence. I was eight when my dad died. I was eleven the last time I saw my second dad.

It was only two days until my birthday. I wasn't sure mom knew though, she was busy a lot of the time. My 'Uncle Shawn' had come by a couple days earlier as a matter of fact. Mom always insisted I call the men that come into the Roadhouse 'Uncle'. So Shawn walked into the Roadhouse, left his eighteen year old son, and left. Just like that. He never came back. I learned later, a couple days after Shawn had left, that the boys name was Ash. Ash was like a big brother to me, especially considering my mom almost adopted him. Ash had left the day before, and I was extremely lonely without someone to talk to. Ash wasn't clear about where he was going. He just told me 'I'm off to go make a new path for myself' whatever that meant. So I sat there, on the Roadhouse floor, idly drawing patterns in the thick dust on the floor.

Uncle John opened the door and he looked at me with a sad grin, like he always did but he didn't rush forward and hug me. For that, I was a bit suspicious. I had thought something bad had happened. "Where's your mom?" Uncle John asked. I pointed to the back room and Uncle John walked through the doors. What I saw next was surprising. Two small boys stood in the doorway where Uncle John had appeared. One was my age, maybe slightly older. He wore an oversized leather jacket, probably Uncle John's, and an amulet around his neck. Even as a twelve year old, he displayed courage and pride, maybe a bit too much of it. He seemed a bit like a pretty boy to me at first.

The second boy was obviously younger, his dark hair hanging in front of his brown eyes. The boy wore a sweatshirt, his hands shoved in the pockets as he stared incredulously at the interior of the Roadhouse. I decided I might introduce myself. Kids weren't something you encountered often at the Roadhouse. I pushed myself off the ground, brushing the dust off the front of my brown canvas jacket. "I'm Jo." I announced, standing before the boys, my hands on my hips.

"Dean." the first boy said. "This is Sam." he pointed to the littler boy. The littler boy gave a half smile.

"What you doing with Uncle John?" I asked, taking quick notice of my grammar. A girl who grew up in the Roadhouse was doomed for bad education, despite the homeschooling my dad, mom, and Ash gave me. I made mental note to try and use better grammar around Dean.

"He's our dad." Dean glanced at me challengingly, stepping into the roadhouse. "Dad doesn't have any brothers or sisters."

"Oh, we just call everyone Uncle." I replied. Dean nodded his head, stepping up to the bar that was all too tall for him. Something about the way he walked told me he was trying to play it cool. I suppose he hadn't met many girls. I retreated behind the counter like I had seen mom do whenever a man walked through the doors of the Roadhouse. Dean was different though. Smaller, not as gruff, missing stubble, and not cleaning off weapons. The littler boy, Sam, walked around the Roadhouse a bit more. I decided to ignore him.

"What do you want?" I asked formally, carefully not to say 'd'ya'. I tried to remember how mom acted whenever a customer arrived.

"Um," Dean, obviously a bit confused at my asking, furrowed his brow. "What do most hunters drink?" Dean asked.

"This brown stuff." I held up a bottle, a bit unclear at whhhy he was calling the guys that came into the roadhouse hunters. Mom just called them 'bonafide protectin' men'.

"I'll take some of that then." Dean's voice dripped with skepticism. I poured the glass and set it in front of Dean, who lifted it up and took a whiff. "Uh," he looked like he was going to be sick. "Never mind."

"Joanna Beth, what are you doing?" Mom shouted from the back room.

"Nothing." I said quickly. I grabbed the glass and poured it out in the sink as Mom and Uncle John came out of the back room.

"Come on in guys." Uncle John said, more targeted at Dean and Sam than me. A hot flare of jealousy rose in me. "I know you're tired." Dean and Sam walked magnetically towards their father and I could see the obvious resemblance. I followed as we walked into the back room.

"Come on Sam, you can stay in my room." Uncle John took the little boy with him down the hall to a guest bedroom. Before leaving, he turned to my mom. "I'll tuck him in and then we can talk."

My mom nodded. "Alright." she mumbled as Uncle John and Sam disappeared around the corner. "Joanna, you and Dean can share a bed." I could see Dean sticking out his tongue and jabbed my arm into his stomach. My mom smirked before placing a hand on both of our shoulders. "Come on you two." she tucked us into bed and Dean laid on his back uncomfortably, staring at the ceiling. "Good night." mom shut the door behind her and the room was dark. Suddenly, Dean was shifting, sliding out from where Mom had tucked the sheets in to keep us in bed.

"Dean." I whispered.

"What?" he asked as he swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

"Where ya goin'?" there was the bad grammar again.

"To eavesdrop, where do you think I'm going." He stepped onto the ground with surprising stealth.

"Mom says not to listen to other people's conversations, it's rude." I crossed my arms over my chest.

"But this is my dad. He doesn't count." Dean continued to the door.

"I can't let you listen in on their conversation. It's not right." I got out of the bed to pulled Dean away from the door, but he just grabbed my arm.

"Then I guess you're coming with me." he pulled us into the light of the hallway. I could see Uncle John's retreating figure close the door on Sam's room and walk off towards the living room. "Come on." Dean whispered. I cursed myself for letting myself get dragged into this. Literally.

"If I get in trouble, I blame you." I added a snarky comment just to be even. I thought I saw Dean smirk but he continued walking, releasing my arm. We slid against the wall , sitting on the dusty floor before the opening to the living room. We could hear them clearly.

"Ellen, I need somewhere for them to stay for a while."

"I told you John, I'm done baby sitting."

"Ellen, it's the hell hounds." the word hung in the air and I was ultimately confused. "They caught our scent, the boys too. They're after us. I need to throw them off track."

"And you think I'll let you led the hell hounds straight to your sons, straight to my Roadhouse, and straight to my Jo?' mom's voice was sharp and Dean looked at me, as if just understanding the relationship I had with my mother.

"It's not like that. I bought them new clothes, as far as a hell hound could tell, they're untrackable. I put their old clothes, old scents, everything in my car. I'll drive west until they're off the trail and I'll gank 'em." I had never heard Uncle John talk this way, and it scared me slightly.

"How long am I supposed to baby sit then?"

"A day? Maybe two? Bobby will pick them up when I start back here." Uncle John's voice was frantic, persistent. "Please, Ellen."

Mom paused. "I suppose if you expect me to keep your kids, then they wont mind earning their keep around here." a slight smile was hidden in her voice.

"Go right ahead."

"But if those boys tell Jo anything about this hunting business, I will never forgive you. Jo is safe and isolated from that world. She doesn't need to know these things."

"I know." Uncle John said sadly. "It's a shame though. She's a hell of a fighter." Dean glanced at me questioningly and then his eyes widened, as if he understood now.

"Not funny." mom replied. There was a long silence and suddenly Uncle John appeared around the corner. He glanced down at Dean and I and my heart thudded.

"Are you eavesdropping?"

**So this is my first Supernatural fanfic, hope you like it**


	2. Young Blood: Part 2

Chapter 2

Young Blood: Part 2

Dean and I were tucked back into the bed, forcefully this time. Dean threw a fit, insisting he go with his father. I rolled my eyes and climbed into bed without protest. When Dean finally calmed down, his dad turned to him and said, "I'll come get you from Uncle Bobby's in three days." Uncle John disappeared through the doorway and it was dark and quiet, except for Dean's loud breathing.

"Can you not breathe so loud." I whined impatiently. Dean breathed louder, intent on pissing me off. I rolled onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillows in frustration.

"Stop moving, you're taking all the covers." Dean complained. I smirked, snatching all the covers. "Hey!" Dean exclaimed.

"Now we're even." I announced. Dean huffed, turning his back away from me and crossing his arms, coverless. I turned my back away from him and fell asleep.

"Alright now, up! Up! No breakfast until you get some work done." Mom's regular wake up call rang in my ears and I opened my eyes. Dean's arms and legs were splayed across the bed obnoxiously and the covers I had stolen were wrapped around Dean's sleeping form again. His eyes opened slightly.

"It's too early." Dean complained. I scoffed. It was barely early to me. Mom got me up this time every day to get work done.

"Alright sleeping beauty, get up." I smirked at Dean's discomfort at getting up so early.

I went into the dusty bathroom and turned on the rusty shower, slipping off my clothes. I walked into the bathroom and shivered at the cold water. We didn't have water heat at the Roadhouse. Mom and Dad used to joke that cold water builds character. I could barely see the pun to their joke considering I was shivering to my bones. Although it was spring, but Nebraska's winters were bitter and unforgiving (like my mother).

I laughed at my joke and pushed the numbness the water was causing from my mind, settling under the chilling spray of water. I reached for a random bottle of shampoo. I hadn't thrown out any of my old ones, so all my shower supplies were scattered in the shower.

The cold shower seemed to knock me from my morning haze and I remembered the night before. When Uncle John and my mom had been talking about- hellhounds? Had they been talking about hellhounds? I must have heard them wrong. Mom never mentioned anything like that before. I remembered the way Dean nodded at me like he finally understood. What he understood, I wasn't sure of. But if Uncle John and Mom had been talking about a hellhound then-

What even was a hellhound to begin with? I tried to remember groups of men that would come into the Roadhouse and mumble about things like that, but mom always told me they were kidding. Those things weren't real. What if they were? I trudged through my muddled mind, searching for a distinct memory, and there it was. A memory of Uncle John and mom, exchanging words while outside the Roadhouse. I remembered watching them leave the Roadhouse before going to the table Uncle John had laid out his things. I had been wondering all afternoon what they were quibbling over, and now here it was.

It was a book. Nothing special. A thick leather bound book, loose papers and sticky notes peeping through the sides of the notebook. I flipped to a random page, staring at it incredulously, but before I knew it, Uncle John and mom were walking back inside. I ripped the page out of Uncle John's book and shoved it into the waistband of my jeans that day. I had spent hours that night laying in my bed, trying to decipher the cursive and complex symbols that scattered the pages. I had fallen asleep with the page in my hands, but when I woke up in the morning, it was gone.

What if all the secrets mom were keeping from me was this world of creatures. I turned off the shower and reached blindly for my towel. The towel almost seemed to be handed to me. I wrapped myself in the warmth of the towel and drug back the shower curtain to find little Sam standing there, his eyes wide. "Sam!" I shouted. "What the-"

"Sorry, sorry." he mumbled with an embarrassed blush. He turned around. "I needed to brush my teeth."

"Here." I picked up the bag that Uncle John had put in the bathroom that held his son's toiletries. It wasn't much, just two toothbrushes and a small tube of toothpaste. "Go brush your teeth outside." Sam nodded and trudged out of the bathroom. I tried to block a lock of hair out of my face, but it stuck, wet, to my forehead. I rolled my eyes and gave up, shoving the hair behind my ear.

I finished getting dressed, in my usual black tank top and brown canvas jacket, sneakers that lit up (Ash had gotten them for me), and jeans. I brushed my teeth and as I reached for the doorknob, someone was turning it on the outside, The door flew open and Dean stood, fully intent on walking into the bathroom. He looked up, befuddled. "Geez, don't you Winchesters ever knock?" I shouted. Dean gave me a strange look as

I walked past him and into the main Roadhouse.

* * *

"Joanna Beth, how many times do I got to tell you, you can't just go outside with your hair sopping wet." my mom barked. I cringed at the name Joanna Beth. I prefered Jo, sweet and simple.

"Then why don't I just chop it all off." I replied, my hands on my hips. Sam, who had been standing quietly, giggled.

"What?" Mom asked, turning to Sam. "What's so funny?"

"She's sassy." Sam pointed at me and I felt a burst of confidence.

"Don't egg her on." my mom mumbled, but flashing me a slightly proud smile. I knew why. Because I reminded her of herself. Dean came through the doors, wearing his amulet and oversized jacket again. "Alright, now that you're all here." mom began. "Sam," she placed a big bucket of soapy water and a mop at his feet. "You get the floors. Jo," she handed me a rag, slightly wet. "You've got tables. And you Dean," he tone made it sound like she had something special for Dean, and she did. She handed him a cow prod. "You get to feed the dogs."

"What's this for?" Dean held up the cow prod suggestively.

"For making sure they don't bite you when you go in." mom smiled to herself. "And don't let your hand get in the way of their food. It's a nasty thing to fix a dog bite, son." she waved us all off dismissively. "Alright, disperse. Soon as you're finished, you get breakfast."

"But it's six o'clock and we haven't had anything to eat." Sam whined.

"We're lucky she let us sleep in." I replied for mom. My mom nodded and smiled at me before returning back to the back room.

"She's a real spit fire, huh?" Dean asked, pulling over a chair and kicking his feet up on the table.

"And you don't want to get on her bad side, so-" I pushed his feet off the table. "Get to work, pretty boy." Sam hadn't complained. He began mopping the dusty floors as soon as my mom left the room.

"Make me."

"Mom!" I shouted.

"No! I'm going!" Dean insisted, shooting me a hard glance before trudging outside. I smiled to myself and bent over the tables, beginning to scrub at the dust that seemed to accumulate overnight.

"So Sam," I began, focusing on the tables. "'What's this hellhound stuff your dad talks about?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you." he replied quickly.

"Huh," I paused. "Do you always listen to what your dad tells you?"

"No." he was silent for a moment, scrubbing at the floor. "But I listen to what Dean tells me."

"Oh." I nodded. "And what is it about your brother? Why is he so great?"

"He''s more of a dad than John." he clapped his hand over his mouth. "I didn't mean to say that."

"It's okay. Why do you call him John?"

"I don't want to talk about it." he cut me off again.

* * *

"Whacya doin?" I heard Dean's voice approaching.

"Writing." I replied.

"Writing what?" he sat down beside me, holding his well deserved sandwich in his hands.

"Nonsense and things." I placed the pencil back down and shutting the journal. I picked up my sandwich and took a bite, propping myself up on my elbows as I lay on my stomach. The porch was dirty, but I didn't care. It was the best place to lay and write, or think. Sometimes I would just go there on rainy days and watch the lightning crack across the sky.

"Like what." Dean reached out and took my book, knocking my sandwich out of my hands.

"Give it back." I said angrily, holding out my hand for the book. Dean opened it and began flipping through the pages.

"I wouldn't say you write much. You just ask a lot of questions." Dean lay on his back so I couldn't reach the book. "What's a hellhound? Why do the people in the Roadhouse have guns? What killed my dad-" Dean finally shut up and handed me the journal.

"Yeah, thanks." I stood up and brushed off my pants, getting ready to stomp off.

"I could help you." Dean stood up.

"With what?" I turned back around and placed my hands on my hips.

"I could help you answer some of these questions. I could give you the answers you're looking for."

I considered the option. "Really?" I asked. "Then what's the price?"

"Oh nothing big." Dean said passively with a sinister smile.

**The second installment of Young Blood. There will only be three so the next one will be the last young blood (which is just memories when Jo was younger). Hope you like it. Revview please!**


	3. Young Blood: Part 3

Young Blood: Part 3

Dean and I sat on the edge of the lake that stretched behind the house. This time of the year, the lake was still a bit frozen, but the on coming spring was melting it away from the edges. Normally I wouldn't care if my jeans got dirty, but in Dean's presence I was suddenly extremely wary of my actions. Sometimes I wondered if I was breathing too hard, but then I told myself that Dean didn't care. He was content just staring over the pond and talking to me about all the things my mom had lied to me about.

Part of me didn't me want to believe him. The other part of me wanted to hate my mom, but in that moment I realized why she didn't tell me. She didn't want to scare me like Dean was right then and there. I shuddered in the cool breeze and Dean smirked. "Scared yet?"

"No." I replied, pursing my lips. I couldn't let him win. Instead, I glanced over the water again, focusing on a fixed point. I started to feel sick to my stomach as Dean went on and on in excruciating detail about his latest vampire his dad had killed.

"Joanna Beth!" my mother's persistent scream came from the front porch and I rolled my eyes.

"The witch beckons." I was proud of myself when Dean smiled slightly. I stood up and brushed off my jeans, trudging up the hill, constantly wondering if something was following me. But it was just Dean. Dean was the one following.

"You know it's gettin' dark, don't you?" mom placed her hands on her hips.

"Yes ma'am."

"And you know you ain't supposed to be out when it's gettin' dark."

"I just lost track of time." I tried to reason, hoping mom wouldn't ask what we were talking about. I didn't want Dean to get in trouble.

"We were just chatting, Mrs. Harvelle." Dean, obviously struggling with his manners, came up behind me.

"Hm." my mom glanced at us, rubbing her chin thoughtfully, before letting us into the roadhouse. "Dinner's in a bit. Get washed up. And Dean, I expect you'll help Sammy?"

"Yeah." Dean replied. My mom continued her stern glare. "Yes ma'am." Dean quickly corrected. My mother nodded appreciatively and let us inside the roadhouse.

The roadhouse was a bit smoky and men sat at the counters, huddled over their drinks or talking to their partners. Before Dean had told me everything, I had just imagined that all the men at the Roadhouse were runaway convicts, but now I knew the truth. As we walked through the roadhouse, the men look more menacing then they had before. _These were the people that kill the things that eat girls like me, _I thought. _These are the people that kill the kinds of things that must've killed my dad_. My mom had always told me it was a hunting accident, but now I knew what kind of hunting it was. My dad was a demon hunter, like all the husky men in that bar. I hurried into the back room.

Sam was sitting on the floor of the dim lit living room, playing silently with army figures. I turned to Dean and whispered, "Is he always this... reserved?"

Dean laughed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He reached down and took his little brother's hand, leading him off into the living room.

* * *

Mom tucked me into bed, along with Dean close by my side. The bed was extremely cramped after all. As she turned to leave the room, she paused in the door way. "Goodnight." she whispered. The door closed, engulfed in darkness.

And that's when the terrors began. I felt like I was drowning in darkness. Like something was watching me. That any part of my skin that wasn't covered up was going to be eaten. I felt vulnerable and scared, but Dean's cool voice broke me from my reverie. "You scared?"

"No." I replied, rolling my eyes, although he couldn't see in the dark. "Why would I be? I'm a big girl." I turned on my side, facing away from Dean. "In fact, one day I'ma be a hunter like my dad and Uncle John. I'ma be a hunter like all the men that come to the Roadhouse, you just wait and see." It was more of bravado than actual fact. I wasn't so sure how I would feel, facing monsters and demons for fun.

"It's okay to be scared." Dean's voice sounded distant and lost in thought. "I'm always a little bit scared, to tell'ya the truth. Scared that dad won't come back. Sometimes I'm scared that Sam'll leave me. It's hard to face the world alone. You know?"

I turned back to face him. "You really think it's okay to be scared?"

"No." he laughed. I kicked my leg out and he fell, hitting the floor with a satisfying _thud_. "Ouch!"

"Sorry," I replied with sarcasm. "Leg spasm." Dean stood up and climbed back under the covers bratily and lay on his back. There was silence for a long time, and it seemed the longer the silence, the scarier it got. The shadows moved, the curtains ruffled, my own breath sounded like something's long robes sweeping across the bedroom floor as it walked to come and get me and-

And then there was Dean's warm hand in mine. "I know you're scared Jo."

"Shut up." I reflexively pulled my hand back. "Sorry. I've just never really had a kid friend before."

"Me either."

"Oh," I paused. "Then I guess we'll have to learn to be friends." Dean slipped his hand back into mine and we fell asleep, not scared for what moment what horrors of the world would come to take us.

* * *

Four days of Dean's obnoxiously immature jokes but uncanny wit were just about as much as I could take, and it was a good thing, because Uncle Bobby came on the fourth day. Sam, Dean, and I all sat at the bar, drinking milkshakes my mom had made for us where Uncle Bobby's car pulled up. Uncle Bobby was the type of hunter that came in just about as much as Uncle John. And you never knew when he'd be there. But I had remembered the sound of his car by now, and my heart sank a bit. If Uncle Bobby was there, it meant my friend was leaving. My first true friend in a while.

"Alright boys, pack up your stuff. It's time to hit the road again." uncle Bobby, always making a grand entrance, announced as he walked through the doors. Dean and Sam dispersed, packing up every piece of evidence that ever suggested they were there. I frowned. "Well if it isn't little Jo." Bobby walked over to me and hugged me tight, lifting me off the bar stool, twirling me around, and dropping me back on the floor. "You've gone an grown up on me, squirt."

"I''m 'bout four eleven now, Uncle Bobby." announced proudly, glad to think of something other than Dean and Sam leaving. My mom walked through the door, smiling brightly at Uncle Bobby.

"Bobby, it's so good to see you." and they began to talk about adult things, which I took as my cue to leave. Dean had gathered all this things and was walking outside with them, shoving his bag into Uncle Bobby's trunk like he did this every day. And I had to remind myself, he did.

"So you're leavin'?" I asked.

"Yep. Time to go see dad again and hit the road."

"Oh."

"You remember how I said you' owe me a small price for the answers to al your questions?" Dean said with a sly smile.

"Yeah?"

"Well-" Dean started to say, but my mother and Bobby walked out. Dean leaned forward and pecked me on the cheek and I could feel myself physically blush for the first time in my life. "Now we're even. I'll see you round?"

"I-" I was at a loss for words, not that it mattered. Dean didn't wait for a reply, he just got into the back of the car and left with Uncle Bobby.

* * *

That night was living hell. My room was dark and cold. Lonely, not to mention. As well as scary. Everything seemed to move. The curtains, the blankets, the rocking chair in the corner. Everything was moving. I felt like some sort of prey left to ripen.

And I remembered the night before, with Dean. How he had made his lack of fear so effortless. At first I was mad because Dean had told me those things and then expected me not to get scared. I told myself that your first love is never really your first love, but always your first heart break.

But then I realized Dean had opened a new door for me. I had a reason not to be scared anymore. I could train to become a hunter and no longer be scared. I would know how to protect myself and my mom. I could be like a family bodygaurd. I was thankful to Dean for once, not that I could thank him though. I wouldn't see him again until a couple years later,, when all my memory of him was just a blur from the past.


	4. Memories

Memories

I sat at the bar counter, tracing the rim of the whiskey glass that was resting in front of me. The newspaper I held crinkled and I jerked it to straighten it out. The bold headline read _Parents Killed; Second Pair This Week_. My mom, Ellen, stood by the phone, clutching it tightly and tapping her foot nervously like she always did. She looked up at where I sat and then back at the ground. "Hey John, It's Ellen, look don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me." she said under her breath, trying to make sure I couldn't hear her. But I prestine hearing; I got it from my father, and it was one of the many aspects that would make my a good hunter. If not for the short leash my mom kept me on.

"What are you looking at?" Mom asked, seeing that I was staring.

"Nothing." I returned to my paper and traced the outline of the glass again. Mom still lurked by me and suddenly snatched the newspaper from my hand. "Mom!"

"Joanna Beth, I don't want you readin' any more of these scary newspaper stories. They're poisonous to your brain." she said sternly, rolling up the paper.

"Mom, that's not fair!"

"No! Joanna Beth, you will not be readin' these any longer!"

"But Mom, it's a case! I can feel it!" I shouted.

"And some other hunters are already on it, now clean up. We open in a few hours." Mom set her mouth in a line, signaling the conversation was over. I scoffed, rolling my eyes and began picking up the empty cups. Like I would be doing my whole life. Picking up cups was all I had ever known, and I was tired of being a bar wench.

The day that strange boy from my childhood had told me all about the hunting world, it seemed as though my whole life was a lie. My parents lied to me, all the people that came to the Roadhouse lied to me. And I had decided that I was tired of being scared. I wanted to start training. So in the years following that fateful day that strange boy and his odd little brother's departure from the Roadhouse, I had started to learn how to read and write. Not only that, but I talked a couple young hunters that arrived at the Roadhouse and they began to teach me Latin and all about the hunting world. A hunter named Rufus even started to teach me fighting techniques. But soon my mom knew that I knew and ever since, she kept trying to keep me from the hunting world. She wanted me to just be her daughter, but I was tired of running. I wanted to be a hunter, even if my mother tried to stop me.

* * *

It was late and we were supposed to be closed. Mom had gone back to find another bottle of whiskey. The roadhouse hadn't been busy that night and Ash was passed out on the pool table. There were headlights outside and gruff voices. The door opened and let in the warm air and I could see their faces. My body was on alert all of the sudden. I ducked beneath the counter and watched as the two entered.

One was tall, with dark hair in a teenageish swoop across his forehead. He wore a Carhartt jacket and jeans. "I'll go look in the back." the tall boy walked past the bar counter and I hoped he wouldn't see me. He strolled right past. I couldn't see the other boy, but he was somewhat shorter than the first, dressed in a brown leather jacket turned up at the collar. I reached for the rifle we kept beneath the counter and walked up behind the boy, jabbing the barrel into his back.

"Oh God, please let that be a rifle." he said, his voice husky and low. I loaded the gun.

"No I'm just really happy to see you." I joked, yet remained on guard. He started to raise his arms and I quickly said "Don't move."

He flinched. "Not moving, copy that." there was a heavy silence before he replied. "You know, you should know something miss." I was a bit surprised, because most people just settled with calling me bar wench. "When you put a rifle on someone, you don't wanna put it _right _against their back. It makes it _real_ easy to do-" in one swift movement he turned, his hand grabbing the gun before I could even think about pulling the trigger. He unloaded the gun and the unused bullet dropped to the floor and I stared in disbelief. "That."

But before I let myself talk me out of it, I lunged forward, punching him square in the nose and taking the gun back. I held it towards him and he supped his nose. "Sam!" he shouted, glaring at me. "I need some help in here." Sam? Why did that sound so familiar? The first boy came out of the back door, his hands behind his head. And I could see why.

My mom was holding a gun to his back, pushing him forward. "Sorry Dean, I can't. I'm a little tied up here."

"Sam? Dean?" my mother paused, with disbelief. "Winchester?" A memory pricked in the back of my mind.

"Yeah." the second boy, Dean supposedly, replied.

"Son of a bitch."

"Mom, you know these guys?" I questioned.

"Yeah I think these are John Winchester's boys." My mom looked at the two. Sam and Dean stared in disbelief as my mom laughed and lowered the pistol. "Hey, I'm Ellen." I lowered my gun. "This is my daughter, Jo."

"Hey." I piped.

"Not gonna hit me again, are ya?" The boy named Dean smirked and a memory returned. A pensive little boy, sitting by the lakeside with me telling me all about the hunting world. Dean Winchester. My first crush, and my first heartbreak.

* * *

We all sat at the bar, minus Ash who was still passed out on the pool table. Ash had come back after a couple months at MIT. He said he was too smart for them but I knew he got kicked out for a couple fights. He didn't ever like the preppy people. Mom handed Dean an ice pack. "There ya go."

"Thank you." he pressed the cloth against his head. "You called our dad and said you could help. Help with what?"

"Well, the demon of course." mom said. Dean and Sam looked at each other incredulously. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"Was there an article in demon's quarterly that I missed? I mean who are you how do you know all this?"

I leaned my elbows against the bar counter and looked at Dean. He was rugged, not to mention probably a bit psychologically damaged beneath the skin, but something about him was different than other hunters. I couldn't put my finger on it. He looked nothing like the boy I used to know. I doubted he even remembered me.

"Hey I just run a saloon." mom defended, glancing at me. "But hunters have been known to pass through, and so did your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

I was reminded of a painful memory. Of a man my mom called John but I called dad. Not that he was my real dad, he was just a father figure. My dad died when I was young. To young to remember him. But John would sop by the roadhouse and occasionally tell me bedtime stories or play games with me. He _was _like family.

"Oh yeah, how come he's never mentioned you before?"

Mom looked scared for a moment and I let myself wonder why. "You have to ask him that."

Dean was silent for a moment, glancing from me to my mother. "So why exactly do we need your help?"

Mom quickly interjected "Hey, don't d o me any favors. Look if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out." I stifled a laugh. "But John wouldn't have sent you if-" Mom straightened up, her tone disappearing from her words. "He didn't send you." Dean and Sam looked forebodingly at each other, then at the floor. "He's alright, isn't he?" Mom was obviously choked up and I could feel a tinge of guilt in my heart. Why, I wasn't sure.

Dean, who I had assumed usually talked for the both of them, was quiet. "No." Sam said. "No he isn't" there was tension crackling in the air like glanced up in attempt to wash away his oncoming tears. "He was with the demon, I guess it just got him before he got it."" Sam's eyes were welling with tears. I glanced at mom, who's eyes were filling too.

"I'm so sorry."" she said.

"It's okay." Dean glanced up and looked at me, but not my mom. "We're all right." he smiled half-heartedly.

"Really, I know how close you and your dad-" Mom began.

Dean interrupted. "Really lady, I'm fine." he lied. The silence returned.

"So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get." Sam mumbled.

"Well, we can't." Mom said in a louder tone, looking at me. I shrugged. "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?"

"Ash!" mom called. There was a loud clatter and a show of flying limbs as Ash was rudely awakened.

"What?' the big boy with a mullet asked. "Is it losing time?" he asked when he found his footing. Sam looked at me nd I shrugged with a smug smile.

"That's Ash?' Sam pointed.

"Mhmmm." I nodded my head. "He's a genius."

* * *

Ash sat at the counter, Dean and Sam prepared to interrogate him. "You're kidding me. He's no genius, he's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie. Ash laughed.

"I like you." Ash said to Dean.

"Thanks" Dean said with crossed arms. I picked up a couple glasses and set them in front of the boys, looking up at Dean.

"Just give him a chance." I inquired. Dean rolled his eyes and glanced at Ash with doubt.

"Alright." Dean sat down. He placed a hand on the folder he had brought. "This stuffs about a years worth of our dads work so uh," he slid the folder to Ash. "See what you make of it."

Ash flipped through the folder. "C'mon. This crap ain't real. Ain't no body can track a demon like this." Sam and Dean looked at each other again.

"My dad could." Sam replied daringly.

"These are not-"" and Ash went into a long speech using long complex words that I couldn't even begin to decipher. "I mean-" he rocked in his seat. "Damn." he held up a paper. "They're signs. Omens, uh, if you can track em, you can track this demon. You know like, crop failures, electrical storms." I filled the glassed for the boys. "Struck by lightning. It ain't fun."

"can you track it or not?" Sam asked.

"yeah, with this, I think so, but it's gonna take time. Uh, give me-" Ash knitted his eyebrows. "Fifty-one hours"

Dean and Sam looked at each other like they had just met the craziest person ever. Ash began to walk off. "Hey man." Dean began.

"Yeah?' Ash replied impatiently.

"By the way, I dig the haircut."

Ash, obviously amused, replied. "All business up front, party in da back."

I turned round to place some dirty glasses in the sink and I could feel Dean's eyes on my ass. I kept walking around the corner, obscuring his vision and caught his eye. I walked off and his eyes lingered after me.

* * *

Dean sat down by where I stood, his eyes looking up at me. "How'd your mom get into this stuff anyway?"

"My dad" I nodded. "He was a hunter." I took a deep breath, glancing at the floor. "He passed away."

"I'm sorry." Dean said, and I caught the sincerity in his voice.

"It was a long time ago." I replied. "I was just a kid." Dean smiled at me slightly, nodding. "Sorry to hear about your dad." I starting picking up cups from the table Dean sat at.

"Yeah." he paused, lost in thought. "So," he piped. "I guess I got fifty-one hours to waste." he motioned to Ash. "Maybe tonight we should, uh-" he glanced up at me with that mischievous smile. "Well, you know what, never mind."

He still looked up at me. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing, just, uh. Wrong place, wrong time." Dean looked back up at me and my heart sank a bit.

I searched for something to say to hide my disappointment. "You know I thought you were going to toss me some cheap pick up line." Dean laughed at that, which made me smile a bit. "Most hunters come through that door and think they can get in my pants with some pizza, six pack, and a side one is up at four."

Dean looked at me in disbelief, knowing very well that that is exactly what his intention would have been. "Well what a bunch of scum bags." He replied. I smiled.

"Not you."

He shrugged. "I guess not."

"Dean come here, check this out-" Sam said.

* * *

The night before Sam and Dean left for their job, I was working late cleaning glasses and wiping tables. I saw an glow from outside and I stepped out to see what it was. Dean stood in the road, a cigarette between his teeth. I could tell he couldn't hear me, he must've been too lost in thought. I walked up behind him and plucked the cigarette from his mouth. "I didn't know you smoked." I took a long drag on the cigarette.

"Only when I'm stressed." Dean smiled in the darkness.

"Hmmm. What are you doing out here so late?"

"Couldn't sleep." Dean replied.

"Oh." I nodded, pausing. "You know that folder my mom gave you? The one with the case in it?"

"Yeah." Dean said dreamily, staring off into space.

"It as actually supposed to be mine. I made it."

Dean turned to me. "I suppose next you're going to tell me that you're a hunter too."

"Yes and no."

"How so?" Dean asked.

"It's complicated."

"Aren't things always complicated?" Dean smiled as if sharing an inside joke with himself.

"I suppose." I looked down at the ground and in one swift movement, like before when Dean had taken the gun from my hand, his hand was on my cheek and his warm, hard lips pressed against mine. His lips softened the longer we held them there and I didn't want to let go, but he stepped away. "Why did you do that?" I asked, trying to hide my smile. I turned away, not meeting his eyes.

"I knew it." he breathed, placing his hand back on my cheek and turning my face towards his again. He searched my eyes. "I know you. I remember you now. You're the girl who didn't know about the hunters."

I tried to hide my smile. There was a strange satisfaction about knowing that he remembered. "That's me." I stepped back and his hand dropped back to his side.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to I just-"

"It's okay." I mumbled, hating my words as I thought them. "But right now's not really a good time. i've got some things to go clean up inside and-" _and I don't want to get emotionally involved with a psychologically unstable boy with daddy issues. _I didn't like to think of it so harshly, but that was just my naturally cynical thought process.

"Sorry, I just-" he scratched the back of his head.

"You what?" I wondered, not bothering to let my conscious get to me anymore. I wanted to hear what he had to say.

"It's just that-" he moistened his lips. "I just needed to feel something. Other than this numb pain from my dad's death." Dean took the cigarette from my hand, his own hand shaking. He took a drag, and dropped it on the ground, grinding it with his foot.

"So you're using me for psychological therapy?" I asked, smiling in reassurance. Dean pulled me towards him with a smirk by my belt loops.

"Well if you put it that way-" he leaned in closer and I could smell his musky hunter scent.

"Joanna Beth! You are not going to bed until this bar is clean!" My mom called from inside the bar. I sighed but placed a quick peck on Dean's lips and turned back to the roadhouse. Dean sighed and continued to look out across the land that stretched in front of him.

* * *

Days were back to their lonely boring selves with mom bickering at me and without anyone to talk to. Ash was busy with tracking the demon. Every time I'd go into his room to ask what he was doing, he'd say to get out and that mom didn't want me near this stuff. The day Sam and Dean came back, the roadhouse was busy and hunters were milling about, worrying about their business.

"You boys did a hell of a job." mom set two beers in front of Sam and Dean. "Your daddy'd be proud."

"Thanks." Sam said. I stood beside Dean, placing my forearms on the countertop and my shoulder brushing against his. Mom walked off and I stared at Sam, who looked up and smiled. I kept looking at him and Dean smiled to himself. "Oh yeah, uh I've got to go, over there. Right now." he got off the bar stool and left me and Dean by the bar.

"So."

"So."

"Am I gonna see you again?" I asked, glancing his way.

"Do you want to?" Dean replied.

"I wouldn't hate it." I lied. Of course I wanted to see him again. I let my mind wander to the night before they had left on the case. I had never been much of a hopeless romantic. My one true love had always been hunting, but something about Dean-

"Can I be honest with you?" Dean paused and I nodded. "See normally, I'd be hittin on you so fast it'd make your head spin. But, uh-" he paused again, glancing at his beer bottle. "These days, I don't know."

"Wrong place, wrong time?" I filled in for him, feeling my heart sink as I said the words.

"Yeah." Dean whispered to himself.

"It's ok, I get it." I smiled. Ash walked in, calling them over and I sat at the bar, thinking about the long endless days of work at the bar ahead of me. The loneliness would come back as soon as Dean left.

Sam and Dean walked towards the door. "If you boys need a place to stay for the night I've got some beds out back." Mom said and my heart flipped.

"THanks but uh, I've got something I need to finish." Dean said before disappearing out of the door. My heart sank but I told myself he'd come back one day. He had to.

**Tell me what you think. Reviews are awesome!**


	5. Sometimes Loneliness is The Best Company

**Sorry I havent written in a whil. a.) i dont have many followers on this fic yet so its not of major importance i write regularly yet and b.) ive been getting through exams and stuff but now that its summmer i promise to write more**

Sometimes Loneliness is The Best Company

"Johanna Beth!" My mom's oh-so-familiar shouts filled the Roadhouse.

"Will you stop calling me that?!" I shouted as my mother walked into view. I turned back to the newspaper and mumbled to myself. "It's like every time you say my full name you're mad at me."

"Well if you're gonna be so picky about what I cal you, what is it you would like me to call you? Your highness? Your royal highness?" she drawled, picking up empty glasses from tables and putting them in the bin. "Royal pain in my ass." she mumbled.

"Jo." I replied, ignoring her last comment. I turned the page on the newspaper. "Just Jo."

"Alright you two quit your whining. It's bad enough livin' with two women talkin smack to me, but when you're talkin' smack to everybody, things start to get ugly if you know what I mean?" Ash piped from behind the counter where he sat on the floor in a (what seemed to be) riveting game of online chess. "Aw hell! Check mate again."

"What? Someone finally bet your ass at that game?" mom walked behind the counter.

"Nope. I beat the damn thing _again_." Ash mumbled. Mom and I shared exasperated looks. "I swear, computers just aren't as smart as they're made out to be."

"Or you're just a genius."

"That too." Ash agreed, standing up with his laptop under his arm. "Well I'm headed off to the sack to catch some 'zzzz's' or whattever those hipsters say these days."

"But we're just about to open." mom said.

"Exactly." Ash flicked his hair over his shoulder and disappeared.

"I swear, I can't get any help from either of you on Sunday mornings." mom threw her arms up in exasperation.

"It's Sunday, mom. No one's supposed to be drinking anyway." I rolled my eyes, turning the page again.

"Never stopped your father." mom retorted, beginning to wash the cups. I left it at that. It seemed whenever we brought up dad, the conversation hit a dead end.

* * *

The Roadhouse was buzzing for late Sunday night and I had spent most of the time i was supposed to be working, kicking some old man's ass at a shooting game. It wasn't like I needed the tips from bussing tables. The man was betting me ten bucks a game, and by game twelve, he was broke.

"Damn little lady, that's my room money." He pressed the folded bills into my hands which I took gladly.

"Then I guess you're taking a truck nap tonight." I gave him my best _Harvelle charm_ smile and walked off. As I walked back to the bar, I could hear my mom speaking to the man.

"Well, you otta check the highscores before you put your money down." I heard her press a button and glanced to see all my highscores flash on the screen. I smirked. "You just went and got yourself hussled Ed." It wasn't like there as much else to do at the Roadhouse. It was the only thing to entertain me on rainy days, so I took my opportunities in building up my skills and then beating old bastards out for their money. It worked really well if you knew the right men to pick on. The old men probably with a granddaughter or something, looking for some nostalgia. I would practice on the machines and the when mom wasn't looking, jam the pocket knife dad left for me into the panel and take all my playing money back.

I felt the familiar draft of warm summer air as the door opened. I didn't think much of it at first. Hunters were always coming in and out of the Roadhouse at this time, but I noticed all the other hunter's head's turning and turned around myself, pure shock hitting me straight in the chest.

Dean Winchester and his freakishly tall brother strolled into the Roadhouse, Dean leading, and almost running into me. I smiled, searching for a witty line or something, turning on my Jo Harvelle charm. it seemed to be the only thing boys would talk to me for now. Being myself just wasn't enough.

"Just can't stay away, huh?"

Dean chuckled, his eyes shifting around the roadhouse but never looking at me. "Yeah looks like it." he said in his gruff macho voice. "How you doin' Jo?" Dean asked, his eyes raking me up the down. I tried to hide my blush, and Sam rushed past Dean.

"Where's Ash?" Sam asked frantically.

"In his back room." I replied automatically, before glancing back at Dean. He raised his eyebrows as if to say _don't ask_.

"Great" Sam plowed past, headed straight for Ash's room.

"And I'm fine." I piped sarcastically as I stared incredulously after Sam. I turned back to Dean who had shoved his hands in his leather jacket pocket.

"Sorry. He's- We're- Kinda a bit of a time table." he sputtered. I nodded. "So," Dean whispered under his breath before brushing past me, his eyes cast downward. I rolled my eyes at him. Some guys could be real dumbasses when it came to picking up clues on how a girl felt, but Dean was purely spent and clueless. He didn't even mention what had happened last time he was at the Roadhouse. I told myself to shake it off. I had survived a couple weeks without thinking to pick up the phone and call him, I could survive a couple minutes without talking to him. But this wasn't a normal relationship. If you could even call it that. Seemed like the most periodic relationship I could have in this lifestyle was beer or my bed, which neither were good company when I was lonely. Sure, the beer masked my loneliness and when I slept I didn't feel a thing, but there was no way of escaping it.

I told myself to shake it off. I was being over dramatic.

* * *

Sam and Dean both managed to pull Ash out of his lair (fully clothed, might I mention) and now that the Roadhouse as closed, I was back to my job of cleaning cups and the bar. I picked up the empty bottles, glancing every once in a while at the boys talking in hushed tones about something.

"Alright now do me a favor-" Sam began, shooting off details like he was remembering his first kiss. We all stared at him wildly, even me (although I wasn't supposed to be listening).

"Okay now that is just weird, man. Why the hell would I be looking for that?" Ash questioned. I moved the bottles to the bar and continued to wipe down the table.

Sam placed a beer in front of Ash. "Cuz theres a PBR in it for ya." he said with strange deerination. I allowed my mind to wander, wondering why they had come back. What they had needed so badly.

"Give me fifteen minutes." Ash piped, picking up his computer and turning to go back to his room.

* * *

Sam and Ellen were caught in a riveting game of pool and Dean sat at one of my tables, staring angstily into the bottom of his empty beer glass. Seeing as how the Roadhouse was almost empty, I decided to turn on some music. I walked to the jukebox, pressing a series of buttons and then, the sweet sound of REO Speedwagon filled my ears. I smiled to myself, turning to go buss some more tables. "Only four to go." I mumbled under my breath.

I could feel Dean's eyes on me as I turned to pick up the tray of glasses from a table, and I tried to ignore his eyes. It seemed like an unspoken argument of who would acknowledge who first. I turned to carry the glasses to the bar. As I set them on the bar, Dean gave me a strange glance.

"What?" I placed a hand on my hip in passive disinterest.

"REO Speedwagon?" he asked skeptically.

"Damn right REO." I replied, stepping forward. "Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart." I realized just how stupid I was sounding.

Dean smiled. "He sings it from the hair." He gave a half shrug. "There's a difference."

I started to construct a witty response, glancing over my shoulder to see mom busy. "That profile youve got Ash looking for-" I decided to change the subject. Dean didn't want to hear about my music preferences anyway. Dean nodded. "You're mom died the same way, didn't she?" Dean raised his head. "The fire in Sam's nursery" I said with a softer voice.

Dean was silent for a moment. "Well, Jo it's kind of a family thing."

I nodded. "I could help."

"Sure you could. But we gotta handle this one ourselves." I could see the actual concern in his eyes, even though he was too naiive to admit it. I was silent, glancing at the floor. "Besides, if I ran off with you, your mother might kill me." I smiled thinking, _yep, thats my mom_.

Dean nodded at my mom, who I realized was giving his a challenging glare. "You're afraid of my mother?" I said under my breath. Unbelieveable.

"I think so." He replied, still smiling at my mom.

I smiled at how cute it was. How infuriatingly cute it was that my mother had to ruin this for me. _Stop it Jo, you sound like you're five years old._ I told myself. Sam barged up again. "We got a match. We gotta go."

"Alright Jo," Dean stood up. "See you later." Dean held his glance on me for a while but I pretended not to notice, and as he left the Roadhouse, I wondered what could be so important. What could they possibly need that they would just come in, and leave in the next hour. I rolled my eyes and scrubbed hastily at the bar top. As I scrubbed the bar top, I hummed to the song still playing on the jukebox wondering if one day it could be Dean and my's song. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

* * *

One day while I was sitting at the bar top, reading a book and minding my own business, I could see my mom on the phone. She never was very good t hiding things from me. She her the phone tucked under her hair and was talking in a hushed voice, and a couple hours later, Sam and Dean just magically came back to the Roadhouse. Don't get me wrong I was glad but something about my mom was bothering these last couple days.

Dean and Sam walked into the bar, but it was closed at that moment. Dean didn't bother to exchange any glances and neither did Sam. Not even a simple hi was offered. They just took their seats by the bar. I rolled my eyes in disgust and busied myself with the tables. "Jo go pull our another case of beer." Mom said, talking from behind the bar.

"Mom." I protested, knowing she was a.) going to talk about me b.) talk about hunter stuff or c.) tell DEan to stay away. Either way, I wasn't sure I wanted to leave the room.

"Now." mom snapped, wiping her hands on a towel. "Please" she added quickly.

I rolled my eyes, feeling Dean's glance on me as I walked into the storage room. I pulled out the crate, careful not to make too much noise, and placed it by the door of the storage room. I sat on the crate and pressed my ear against the door, trying to listen in. Well, all I could tell was it was hunter stuff. I could only make out the occasional 'demon' or 'war'. And then mom snapped at Dean about something and I couldn't help but smirk.

As soon as Sam started to talk, I opened the door of the storage room and carried out the crate, placing it on the counter next to my mom, who didn't seem to notice. I stood behind her, listening in on their conversation. "So they wouldn't be int he system. No way to track 'em down." Mom spoke, looking from Sam to Dean, Sam to Dean.

"And so who knows how many of them are really out there." Dean mumbled, more to himself than the others surrounding him.

Mom was silent again but I could feel the tension int he room. "Jo, honey." her words were sincere but her tone was sharp.

"Yeah." I kept my voice lower, realizing that the boys were here about something serious. Something bad.

"You better break out the whiskey instead." She didn't turn to look at me and I pursed my lips. Dean's eyes glinted with strange sobreity, although we all knew Dean was never really sober. Sure, all hunters were alcoholics, minues Sam, but Dean was different. To me, Dean was always different.


End file.
